Wait a minute…” I started.

“You can see…” Striker said at the same time.

“Yes, yes.” Albert gave a dismissive wave of his misty hand. “You both can see me, right?”

Heart clogging my throat, I gave a slow nod. Striker did the same. All at once, I didn’t feel so alone anymore. Pandora meowed triumphantly from the window, where she had been watching us from inside. If Striker could see Albert, see ghosts like I could, then maybe he wouldn’t think I was too weird for him after all. Maybe this could develop into something more between us. Maybe… I still had to be sure, had to hear the words.

“So, you can see Albert, right now?” I asked.

“Yes.” Some of the color had returned to Striker’s cheeks, though he still looked as gobsmacked as I felt. “And you can too?”

“I believed we’ve cleared this up,” Albert said, his tone growing impatient again. “Now, if you’ll both pay attention, I have something important to—”

“How long have you been able to see ghosts?” I continued as if Albert hadn’t spoken.

“For as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, it used to scare me senseless. As I got older, I tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away one day. It never did.” Striker exhaled slowly, leaning his hand on the porch banister for support. “And you?”

“Just since my car accident. When I came to afterward, I could see the spirits. At first, I thought I’d gone crazy, but now I’m sort of used to it. No one knows about this except Pepper, though.” I bit my lip, frowning down at my toes. “Well, and now you.”

“Same here. I mean, I haven’t told anyone about this curse except you. And my parents knew, but they’re both gone now.”

“Hello!” Albert’s voice boomed once more, and both Striker and I winced. “Important information here. Someone was after that envelope I was intending to mail. I found it in an old mailbag at home while I was cleaning out my stuff. I might be retired, but it’s still my sworn duty to make sure every letter gets processed.”

“Who was the letter addressed to, Albert?” I asked.

“It was from Helen Warren to a woman named Dorothy Hill.”

“Huh.” Striker scratched his chin and frowned. “Helen Warren, I’ve heard of but not this Dorothy Hill. And that letter had to have been decades old. Why would anyone kill for that?” He shook his head. “Was the stamp valuable?”

“Not that I know of.” Albert attempted to sit on one of the rockers but simply floated through it.

I leaned my hips against the railing, struggling to take in everything I’d just learned. Striker could see ghosts, the same as me. Except he’d apparently been born with the talent—if that was what you wanted to call it—while mine had only happened after my accident. Of course, I didn’t mention the rest of the weird stuff that had come along with my surprise gift and my return to Mystic Notch. Things like that old recipe book that Pepper had said was really filled with old spells. Or the fact I thought I’d seen Evie turn a person into a toad (I was still unclear on that one, though. The EMT had said the smoke inhalation might have messed with my perception of what happened, but it seemed so real). Or the message I’d received from Adelaide Hamilton’s ghost this past summer that had supposedly been from my grandmother telling me to believe in magic. The whole I-see-dead-people thing was bad enough. I didn’t want Striker to think I was beyond crazy.

“Hey,” Striker said, moving closer to me in the twilight. He tipped my chin up with his finger and smiled that sexy little smile of his, the one that always made my toes curl and my knees wobble. “I like that we have this new connection, this secret bond about the ghosts.” His thumb stroked my cheek softly, and I gripped the railing tighter to keep from melting into a puddle of goo at his feet. “You know, when I was growing up, my grandma always told me about these magical gifts that were passed down in my family, and she said I was special. For the first time in my life, I’m actually glad I’m different. Because you’re different too, Willa. You’re truly special.”

My lips tingled, and my breath hitched, my eyes drifting closed as he lowered his head to kiss me. I clutched my fingers into the front of his soft blue T-shirt, rising up on tiptoe to meet him and…

“Right,” Albert said, clearing his throat loudly. Striker and I flew apart like opposing magnets. “Well, this is nice and all, but before you two get all lovey-dovey, you should know that the killer wanted that letter badly enough to murder me for it. Now, go and find him.”

Albert disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving Striker and me to stare at each other in the gathering darkness. Our breaths rasped loudly, and the air suddenly turned chilly. I let us back inside and took a seat on the sofa, staring once more at the paperweight on the coffee table.

“Before Albert showed up, I thought I saw a letter reflected inside that globe.” I pointed to the paperweight, and Striker picked it up, holding it in his palm. I leaned over to peer inside the glass again, but all I could see was the reflection of Striker’s hand. He had some scratches I hadn’t noticed. “It’s gone now.”

He set it back on the table, and I glanced at his hand, wondering what had scratched him. No scratches.

Weird.

Probably just an odd reflection of light from the paperweight.

“So, what’s our next move?” Striker asked, settling back against the cushions and stretching his arm along the back of the sofa. I battled the insane urge to cuddle into his side and instead pushed myself farther back into the corner of my seat. We had work to do.

“Well, when Pepper and I went to see the Schumers today, I got to meet Desmond, Albert’s son-in-law. I also got an earful about him from Pepper, about how Desmond doesn’t like to work and is always trying out some money-making scheme.” I crossed my arms and frowned. “I went to see Barney Delaney afterward. He said that Desmond was in his shop right after Albert died, attempting to pawn off Albert’s rare stamp collection. Do you think he might’ve stolen the letter, thinking it was valuable due to its age?”

“Could be,” Striker said, his expression thoughtful as he picked up a slice of pizza.

“Oh, and did I mention that after I got back to my shop, I overheard Nathan Anderson and Felicity Bates arguing on the sidewalk? It was about a letter too.”

“Felicity Bates, eh?” Striker chewed on his slice. “This wouldn’t be the first time she was a suspect in a murder investigation. Her family isn’t exactly the most upstanding in the community, despite all their money. After all, Felicity’s son is in jail for murder right now. Let me talk to Gus tomorrow and see what’s happening in the investigation.”

“She hasn’t teamed up with you like she normally does?” That surprised me. Usually, my sister used Striker as a sounding board and an unofficial member of her detective squad.

“No, but then, she’s had her hands full.” Striker finished his slice and tilted the box in my direction.

“I’m all set.”

“I better get going. Big day tomorrow.”

I followed as he carried the remains of our pizza into the kitchen and shoved the box in my fridge before grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair where he’d tossed it when he came in. “We’ll have to manage this business with Albert’s ghost behind the scenes, of course.”

“Of course. Gus would think we’re crazy.” I followed him to the door, leaning against the frame as he headed back out on the porch. Striker turned to face me, his gaze falling to my lips once more. He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine for a heart-stopping second before pulling away. He smelled of spicy cologne, and that scent became my new favorite. Heat prickled my cheeks as I did my best to focus on the case at hand and not the tingling awareness now zinging through my system. “Now that we know the real motive for the murder was that letter, hopefully, finding the killer will be easier. If you can just get Gus to follow the evidence Albert gave us, we should be all set.”

“You make it sound so easy. It’s never easy to get Gus to do anything.”

“True, but I have faith. You can finagle things so she sees what she’s supposed to. In the end, it’s all about catching a killer.”

“Yep.” Striker paused, his eyes holding mine. “There’s one thing even more important.”

“What?”

“I always knew you were special, Chance, but now we both know that we’re two of a kind.”